Backseat Living
by coffeeflavoredkisses
Summary: As kids, Sam and Dean rarely ever fight. But good god, do they bicker.


John knows there are a lot of things about his boys he should be grateful for.

And he is- grateful for how smart they are, how kind. How low maintenance they both are, especially Dean, and how something as simple as stopping for ice cream will make them happy for hours. More then anything he's grateful for their continued health and happiness.

One of the other big ones, though, is all how well they get along. They love each other, plain and simple, but they like each other too. Sam and Dean rarely fight.

But good _god_, do they bicker.

"Dean! Stop touching me!" Sam's been making complaints about this for the last hour, crammed as far as he can get against the right side door. He's curled up with a book that John swears should be far above his reading level at six years old, and according to his whining Dean keeps bumping his feet with his action figures.

"I'm not even, Sammy!" Dean protests immediately, scooting back an inch all the same. He's sitting with his back to the car door, cross-legged on the seat with little plastic army men scattered in the space between him and Sam.

"Settle down back there." John calls, taking his eyes off the road for a second to look in the rearview mirror, but his warning goes ignored.

"You are too! You keep bumping my feet with your toys, and they're sharp. It hurts." Sam's got an angry pout on, one that John knows is only going to serve to rile Dean up. Sam hasn't quite learned how to manipulate his big brother yet, but John knows how Dean works. All Sam has to do is turn the pout from angry to sad and throw in some watery puppy dog eyes- Dean would be putty in his hands.

As it is, Dean rolls his eyes. "They're tiny, Sammy, stop being a baby."

Predictably, Sam yells, "I'm not a baby! You're just _annoying_."

"Yeah, well so are you!" Dean shoots back, maybe not so eloquent but effective in making Sam slam his book shut.

"I'm not even doing anything, Dean! I'm just trying to read and you won't – stop – touching me!" Sam grits out, something more than anger in his voice, but Dean doesn't catch the hint.

"Boys, cut it out." John reprimands lightly, hoping to keep this from going into more serious territory, but neither of them appear to hear him.

"Yeah, well you don't _have_ to be doing anything. You're always annoying, it's just your personality." Dean shoots back, unthinking, but John winces. He glances in the mirror at them, and sure enough he can see Sam flinch, face hurt and vulnerable for just a moment before it hardens as much as a child's face can and he shuts down.

Dean looks contrite for a brief moment. And then Sam flings his book at him.

"Hey!" John barks, slowing down slightly, foot hovering over the brake. "Do I need to stop this car?"

He finally gets their attention with the snap, and they settle briefly, mumbling a quiet, "No, sir."

He waits, listening for movement in the back seat, but the boys are silent.

Less than a minute later, Sam hisses, "Give me my book back."

"What? No way! You _threw_ it at me, Sam."

"Yeah, but it's _mine_."

"Well if you _wanted_ it then you shouldn't have _thrown_ it at me."

"You were being a jerk!"

"Too bad. Finder's keepers."

"You didn't find it, Dean, I threw it at you!"

"Exactly! You can't throw things at people and then just expect them to give 'em back, Sammy, don't be dumb."

"I am not dumb! Dad!"

John sighs. They've been driving for less than two hours. They still have a little over two hours to go. "Dean, give Sammy his book back. Sam, apologize to your brother for throwing a book at him."

Before you become a parent, there are certain things that you just don't ever expect to find yourself saying with any degree of seriousness. "Apologize to your brother for throwing a book at him" is definitely one of those things.

"But he started it!"

"But he _threw_ it at me!"

"Boys." John doesn't say anything else, merely waits.

After a moment, Dean sighs. "You can have your stupid book back."

When John glances in the mirror, he can see Sam clutching the book to his chest and biting his lip. He prompts gently, "Sam."

"I'm sorry for throwing it at you." Sam mumbles, staring at his lap, and Dean shrugs.

"Sorry for calling you dumb." He says, and then as an afterthought, "And for calling you a baby."

Sam just nods, opening up his book again. John relaxes slightly. Silence falls inside the car, only the sound of the engine and Dean making quiet gunshot noises as his toy soldiers fight an imaginary war. Every so often there's a rustle of paper as Sam flips a page.

Not five minutes later, Sam speaks up hesitantly. "Hey, Dean?"

Dean looks up from his game, a soldier clutched in each hand, brow furrowed with concern. "What's up, Sammy?"

Sam bites his lip and doesn't meet his brother's eyes. "You don't really think I'm _always_ annoying, do you?"

"Nah, Sammy." Dean's face has softened into a smile, and Sam returns, it relieved. Then Dean shifts into a mischievous smirk, and he finishes slyly, "Just sometimes."

"Dad!"


End file.
